


Sweet Tooth

by skylinehorizon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylinehorizon/pseuds/skylinehorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reason Dean visits the bakery every day may or may not have everything to do with the mysterious baker who works out back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tooth

Castiel makes the best cookies.

Seriously,  _the best._

He makes chocolate chip, peanut butter, vanilla, walnut, cinnamon. Even his  _raisin_ cookies are good.

And then there’s the pie. Dean’s pretty sure he’s sampled every different pie Castiel has ever sold. 

Dean walks into the bakery every morning before work to grab an iced bun, a slice of pie for later or some cookies to take to Sam and Jess. It’s routine now, and he even gets up early some weekends.

The problem is, Castiel never works out front.

Dean’s met him a total of two times. The first, he sold Dean an iced bun and Dean had caught sight of his name tag, and has been pretty far gone for him since. The second time Castiel sold him apple pie, mumbled a ‘have a nice day’, and Dean had talked to Sam on the phone about him for half an hour before Sam had told him to suck it up and ask Castiel out. 

(That was two weeks ago, and Dean’s still not any closer to asking the guy out on a date.) 

The third time is a Thursday morning and Dean’s still half-asleep when he stumbles into the bakery armed with coffee in one hand.

There’s nobody in the front of the store, but there are already fresh desserts on display and the bakery smells sweet, warm, homely. 

He’s just thinking about grabbing a slice of cherry pie when he hears a small, “Oh!", and Castiel is walking towards the counter, pulling his apron over his head.

He’s got flour on his face, and some in his hair, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, succeeding only in covering himself in more flour. Dean’s heart is thumping in his chest, and he has to place his coffee down on the counter to prevent himself from spilling it.

Dean grins at him. “Hi." 

"Hello," he says, a faint blush covering his cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting." 

"You didn’t, don’t worry about it," Dean says. “I’ve gotta say though, I mean, I never see you. So I wanted to say you bake the best pie and the best cookies, dude."

"Oh," he says, and then swallows. “Thank you. I don’t — I stay in the back."

"You shouldn’t hide back there all day," Dean says. “I mean, I like it when you’re out here. You’re — good."

Castiel frowns at him. “I’m good?"

"Yeah," Dean says, feeling his tongue twist and trip over itself. “In the front. Where I can see you. Shit."

Dean lets out a short, nervous laugh and rubs the back of his neck. Way to go, Winchester.  _Smooth_. 

"What’s your name?" Castiel asks, and Dean’s surprised to see the soft smile there. 

"Dean," he says. “Winchester."

"Castiel," he says, holding his hand out. 

"Nice to meet you, Cas," Dean says, shaking it. 

Something changes over his face, but Dean can’t place it, only knows it must have been good when his smiles widens that little bit more. 

Their hands drop and Dean shoves them into his pockets, rocking on his feet a little as he surveys the desserts that are on display. 

"So, can you get me some pie?" 

Cas gives him another little smile and goes to the pie rack to get Dean’s order.

 

 

***

The next morning, Dean’s surprised to see Cas behind the counter again. He’s got a clean face, devoid of flour this time, but he’s wearing his apron, smudges of pink icing on the front.

Dean feels immediately brighter when he sees him, and grins when he meets Cas’ gaze. 

"Hello, Dean," he says, as Dean closes the door behind him. 

"Hey," Dean says, walking up to the counter. “It’s good to see you out here again."

Cas’ smile is soft and remains there as Dean stands opposite him, smiling back as they stare at each other. It’s silent in the bakery and Dean clears his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Uh, can I get a box of cookies? Make half of them chocolate chip, and the other half peanut butter. Thanks."

Cas starts to get his order together, delicately arranging the cookies in the pink box and Dean fidgets with his money, tells himself to  _get it together._

"So, Cas," he begins, as Cas moves to the register. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me sometime? Maybe get coffee or a dinner?"

Cas’ hand stills and he looks caught out, stuck in headlights.

"Um…"

"It’s okay," Dean says, feeling his throat constrict, sweat on the palm of his hands. “Sorry, we don’t really know each other, and—"

"Yes," Cas says suddenly. A slow smile spreads across his face and he meets Dean’s gaze. “Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you, Dean."

"Great," Dean says, and breathes, relieved. “That’s great. I’ll give you my number."

Dean writes it down on the back of an old receipt he finds in his pocket and slides it over.  

"Oh — Cas?" 

Cas turns and raises his eyebrows in question. Dean leans forward and gently brushes Cas’ bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Cas’ lips part and his eyes flutter closed. 

Dean’s hand drops and Cas opens his eyes again, a hot flush on his cheeks.

"You had um, flour. On your face." 

"Oh," Cas says, and then nods. “Thanks."

"Yeah, I—"

Dean’s interrupted as Cas’ lips land against his, a hard, hot press, teeth clinking together. He’s startled until he melts into it, bringing a hand up to cup the back of Cas’ head. He holds him there, fingers tangling in his hair until they pull apart, breathless. 

"Okay," Dean says. “That was fucking hot." 

Cas smiles at him and steps back. “Call me tonight?"

"I will," Dean promises, picking up his box of cookies. “We’ll go on a date soon. This weekend or something."

Cas’ smile widens and he nods, fingers lightly touching his lips, as if he can still feel the press of Dean's lips against his skin. 

"Bye, Dean," he says softly, and Dean ducks his head and gives a little wave as he heads out the store. 

Dean touches his own lips and heads to work with a smile on his face the entire way there. 


End file.
